


Dimples

by ForeverandForAlways



Category: Adam Levine/Blake Shelton - Fandom
Genre: Adam Levine - Freeform, Blake Shelton - Freeform, Bromance, Cee-Lo Green - Freeform, Christina Aguilera - Freeform, The Voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:32:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverandForAlways/pseuds/ForeverandForAlways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about those dimples and, damn it, Adam really hates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dimples

There’s something about those dimples and, damn it, Adam really hates it.

It’s one of the first things he noticed about Blake. Those fucking dimples. In Season One they were adorable (come _on_ have you _seen_ them??). In Season Two, they both gained and lost their appeal. The more he looks at them, the cuter they get but he keeps on losing contestants to them which, cut it out Blake. In Season Three, those damn dimples steal away Terry and _damn it_ that really pisses him the fuck off (not that that small fact keeps him from tilting his head just slightly to the side when Blake does that _thing_ with his teeth). Season Four is the season when Blake becomes aware of his dimple powers and yep, Adam loses a lot more contestants than he likes to admit. Come Season Five, Blake has practiced (and perfected) his dimples and smiles and goddamned finger pointing and yep that’s where they are right now.

“Don’t look at him! Eyes here!” he demands, jabbing his two scissored fingers at Cole and then back at himself. He wants Cole (God he wants him _so_ bad) and he had him, thank you very much, until fucking Shelton pushed his goddamned button. As soon as Blake starts talking, Adam knows he’s lost this one (and he fucking _hates_ to lose) and his competitive nature puts him in a sulky mood.

“Uh, well Blake really hit the nail on the head,” Cole says (after complimenting Maroon 5 and Adam will take that credit, thank you) and there’s the “let down” tone that he only hears when someone has already made up their mind.

“You looked at him too long,” he moans into his hands, cursing those dimples (it had to be). Cole chooses Blake (sigh) and the stupid hick takes full advantage of the fact that Adam rarely loses what he wants by rubbing it in with his stupid hick laugh and his stupid hick pointing. Ugh, he really doesn’t even know why he likes him sometimes. He’s irritated (but not moping) and losing someone as talented as Cole that he wanted so badly never puts him in a good mood (but he’s not moping) and he will admit that he’s a little more snappy than he probably should be (but he’s _not_ moping). He behaves, but there must be some vibe that Blake can pick up on because, other than the usual side hug and kiss to his temple (“Leave me the hell alone Shelton”…”What’d I do?”…”I hate your fucking dimples. Asshole”), he’s left alone that night. He wakes up to a “ _good morning jackass, hope you’re in a better mood_ ” text so he supposes he isn’t in too much trouble. He will admit that he is in a slightly better mood today (it has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fucking dimples) and the optimism and raw talent on the stage always cheers him up (Caroline is going to be a threat, damn Cee-Lo).

“Caroline makes me want to buy a cat and a pink blanket and curl up around the fire with a cup of hot chocolate,” Blake drawls after the teen’s performance.

“And Adam,” coughs Christina under her breath, a fond smirk on her face as she glances between her boys. Their fling was short lived and very sex driven, not much to the emotional aspect of that, after all, and she whole heartedly ships (ship – why is that even a thing you can do?) him and Blake (not unlike most of America).

“With Adam,” Blake adds, throwing him that stupid, drowsy half-smile that shows off his goddamned dimples. Fuck. Adam groans quietly, not loud enough for even Cee-Lo to hear.  
********************************************************  
“You’re such a fucking idiot,” he announces as he surveys Blake’s living room. He whines as a hand smacks him on the back of the head. The dork had actually gone out and bought a pink blanket (although he doesn’t see a cat), started a fire, and made some damn hot chocolate. “Seriously, why do I even like you?” Hands fist into his signature leather jacket and push him up against the wall. Long, jean covered legs thick with muscle rest against his own (covered of course in his own skin tight jeans). He raises his puppy dog eyes (ha, Blake may have dimples but fuck you Shelton, Adam has his puppy dog eyes) up to those blues that, even after four seasons, still makes him wriggle.

“Because I can do this,” Blake rumbles, his voice husky and deep and yeah, Adam will admit to forgetting about the hot chocolate and blanket and everything that isn’t Blake for a while.  
*********************************************************  
“Hey Blake?” he murmurs several hours later, that fucking pink blanket wrapped around his waist, connecting him to his country weirdo, the hot chocolate long cooled on the table. He’s propped up on his elbow, observing Blake’s profile in the shadow of the fire burning in the (typical) country house he still can’t believe he can tolerate.

“Hmm?” Blake hums back, half asleep, nuzzling his stupid face further into the floor, tightening the arm that rests around Adam’s bare hips just slightly, closing his large hands around his jutting hip bones and squeezing. Adam reaches out a hand and gently traces the dimples that pop out when Blake groggily smirks up at him.

“I really love these goddamned dimples.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction but don't withhold criticism! Leave me comments!


End file.
